


i'll take him under my wing

by pinkberrygeek



Category: Haikyuu!!, Junjou Romantica, Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi
Genre: Adulting, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Bokuaka from outsider's perspective, Character Study, Fluff, Junior Editor Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Senior Editor Aikawa Eri, Slice of Life, Smoking, Someone give these editors ergonomically designed chairs please, Strangers to Friends, work friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkberrygeek/pseuds/pinkberrygeek
Summary: The new hire Akaashi Keiji is a mystery to his colleagues at Marukawa Publishing. Though personal information hardly mattered in this hellscape. All they saw was that he was good at his job. Smart, young, handsome and determined, with a promotion already rumoured to be in the works.Aikawa Eri sees so much of herself in him. So, she decides to take the first step to get to know him better.She finds herself learning a little more than she had expected to when a loud, owlish-looking man bursts into their office one day with reckless abandon.(He has the weirdest hairstyle she's ever seen.)
Relationships: Aikawa Eri & Akaashi Keiji, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 11
Kudos: 151





	i'll take him under my wing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a character study of Akaashi Keiji, through Aikawa Eri's POV. Akaashi's life in the workplace, basically, through her eyes. Major kudos to all the professional editors, writers and artists out there! Ya'll strong as hecc 
> 
> I loved Junjou Romantica so much when I was younger, and even if the series is already complete (kinda?), I really wanted to explore Aikawa more as a character. So I put this little thing together! Enjoy. 💜

_Akaashi Keiji._

_Twenty-three years old, tall, with dark hair and gunmetal blue eyes. Rather handsome. Reliable. Supposedly single, if the gossip she’d heard while stress-crying in the bathroom stalls were anything to go by. He was a junior editor, serious about work, never late to meetings and ensured manuscripts were submitted right on the dot (no easy feat for any editor, let alone the experienced ones)._

Anything other than the above was a mystery.

Nobody knew where he went after hours, he never joined in when they held drinking parties after stressful deadlines had passed and even rejected the chance to participate in their Christmas gala, an event most of the Marukawa staff went to in hopes of sucking up to management and getting in good with the bosses.

But there was one thing she was sure of—Akaashi Keiji had remarkable potential.

Despite his quiet nature and reluctance to join in social activities, the higher-ups had already taken a liking to him, and there had been talks of promotion. They wanted to assign him to an author. To Ijuuin-sensei, one of their best-selling mangakas. But also one of the toughest to work with. 

Eri Aikawa had been working for Marukawa for _ages,_ ever since she’d given up her old job editing small articles for a notoriously famous international fashion magazine.

A career editing literature would boost her up the corporate ladder and be a definite upgrade from writing about snooty designer dresses nobody ever really wore.

Or so they _said_.

Now at the age of thirty-three, she finds herself stuck juggling the numerous _ridiculous_ exploits and anxiety attacks Usami Akihiko subjects her to, with his unpredictably inconsiderate tendencies, jumping between writing award-winning pieces ( _never_ delivering his end of the bargain to have his manuscripts completed on time) and trashy BL romance novels at will (far too many drafts, all containing cringe-inducing sex scenes) (she tended to be more of a thriller fanatic herself).

Granted, the job paid well. But that was after _ages_ of hard work and finally getting into Usami Akihiko’s good graces. The day he’d finally been willing to give her a key to his apartment (to collect manuscripts while he was dead to the world or to knock some sense into him while he was brooding) was the day she was finally seen as a respected editor amidst primarily male co-workers who saw her as nothing more than a pair of tits.

That had been two years after she’d been recruited. And it continued to be an uphill battle. It was tough. It took guts, an iron will and a _lot_ of crazy to stay on the job without going insane.

So really, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what young, picture-perfect Akaashi Keiji was doing, working in a company like this. He had been rejected by the literature department for a lack of experience and thrown to the hellscape that was the manga department, under her partial supervision given her split-role in editing Usami-sensei’s works (which, hey, _another_ responsibility on top of all the other shit she had to juggle, why the hell not?).

Marukawa didn’t even pay that well, for newbie editors his grade. There were surely, plenty of places who would have accepted someone like him, with his impressive grades and stellar dissertation on the sociological impacts on modern _and_ classical literature (it had been a thoroughly interesting piece and she had read all twenty-thousand words of it). Granted, he had no _proper_ work experience, but surely…

She heaved a heavy sigh.

So young, so fresh, so full of potential.

Nearly a decade of his life, his precious twenties, dangling by the thread, threatening to pass him by in the blink of an eye. All it would take was one slip-up, one problematic author (of which there were many), one fuck up at the printing presses for anyone to descend into a spiral of depression, questioning your self-worth and corporate value in the eyes of this cutthroat industry.

She almost saw herself in him, back when she had been a wide-eyed girl from the country, looking to become a success in the big city (she supposed she _had_ achieved most of her financial goals, but her personal life was a different mess altogether).

So, on that note, and driven by the need to do something philanthropical (did this really count?) Aikawa decides to do what she does best.

Interrogate, and negotiate.

She didn’t _want_ anything from him per se, but rather, she wanted to give him what nobody had offered her, back when she had first been recruited. A clear picture of what this industry could do to you.

And a choice.

So she approaches him, on a rainy Monday afternoon, just after the weekly performance meeting with the manga department. Aikawa catches Akaashi Keiji at his desk, sees him eating a homemade bento comprising mostly of boiled vegetables and steamed chicken, with a small portion of rice.

“Wow, that looks healthy,” she comments, sliding into the empty seat next to him. The grooves on it are so deep and worn she immediately feels hard plastic jabbing into her spine. Yikes. They really needed to refurbish. Editors deserved ergonomic chairs, at the very least. “Free for a quick chat, Akaashi-kun?”

He freezes, his chopsticks motionless in mid-air.

“… Is there something wrong?” He looks almost fearful, eyebags prominent behind his stylish frames. Aikawa sighs. Maybe he hadn’t been as unaffected by the job as she had previously thought.

Also, so much for being smooth. Years of working with Usami-sensei had definitely taken a toll on her social suaveness (she had scared off so many potential beaus it was depressing).

“Not at all! I just wanted to take the chance to get to know you, Akaashi-kun. We rarely talk, and I’ve been wanting to compliment you on a job well done with last month’s assignments.”

“Oh. Well, thank you,” he puts the chopsticks down, bowing his head as humbly as he can, slouched in his crappy chair. It creaks with the minuscule movement. “I’ll continue to do my best, Aikawa-san.”

“Good, good,” she pulls out a granola bar, the only thing she was able to stomach on Monday afternoons. Pulling her auburn hair into a low ponytail, she smiles. “Would you mind if we talked over lunch? I have another meeting to get to right after this.”

“Not at all,” he gives her a tight smile. It looks very forced. “Please, ask me anything you’d like.”

“Don’t be so stiff, please!” She waves her hands frantically, and her food nearly goes flying. “This doesn’t have anything to do with work. And if you feel like I’m overstepping, feel free to tell me.”

He relaxes, just marginally. Gives another little nod, long fringe fluttering as he exhales. “Of course.”

They take a few more bites of their food, the air awkward and filled with tension as Aikawa examines him as subtly as she can (it is not at all subtle). The young editor’s bento is _super_ healthy. A rare sight in this department, where cup-ramen and takeaway burgers were staple comfort foods for their rotting souls.

“You still have time to cook before work? I’m impressed,” she says, swallowing the dry muesli. “When I started out, I remember surviving _solely_ on convenience store foods.”

Akaashi manages a wry smile. “That does seem to be the general practice around here. It was definitely a culture shock when I first came on board.”

“Oh?” So he _does_ know. “You must have impressive time management, to juggle maintaining a healthy lifestyle on top of all the shit we have to do. Just last year, I applied for an annual gym membership. I only managed to go _twice_.”

She feels relieved when the tension seeps out of his shoulders, her junior even allowing a small chuckle at her story.

“That’s a shame. But I can see why. It’s hard, trying to keep in shape,” Akaashi frowns, eyes darting down to his flat stomach. “Most nights, I crash on my couch immediately after getting home. I can only really exercise on the days we have off, or when deadlines have just passed.”

“Is that why you don’t come to company events?” She asks, changing topics with all the grace of a pig on ice (curse you, Usami-sensei!). Aikawa screams internally when she sees Akaashi’s shoulders tense back up. “I mean… sorry! They’re totally optional! Ha-ha!” She does the dumbass head-scratch, much to her own horror.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he puts down his chopsticks and starts picking at a loose hangnail on his thumb. “I just… find it difficult to connect with people I don’t really know. But you seem like a nice person, Aikawa-san. You’re always looking out for us.”

“Thank you…” she accepts his kind words, but her heart is heavy with guilt. “Honestly, Akaashi-kun, I have trouble sometimes with my phrasing. Being in the business for long does that to you, dealing with what we do. I’m sorry if I was being too forward.”

“Not at all. I’ve dealt with far worse, in high school,” he smiles wryly. “And I definitely didn’t expect this job to be smooth sailing. My parents were _very_ worried when I told them I wanted to be in the publishing business.”

“Oh? And what do they do?”

“They’re lawyers,” his smile turns into a smirk, Akaashi’s eyes glinting with amusement. “My mother’s a criminal prosecutor and my father is a divorce attorney.”

Aikawa can’t help it.

She snorts, covering her mouth with her hands to muffle her laughter. God, she hated her laugh. “That’s crazy! How did they meet?”

“Now _that’s_ an even funnier story.”

They pass the time, sharing stories about their families, Aikawa telling him how she had come to live in Tokyo on her own and leaving everything behind in Miyagi Prefecture.

“Oh, one of my closest friends is from there,” Akaashi remarks. “We used to play volleyball together in high school when he came to Tokyo for training camps.”

“You played volleyball?” Aikawa grins, eying his forearms, where the sleeves of his sweater are pushed up. They looked… well, fit. She was hardly an expert when it came to sports and musculature... but now, Akaashi’s height, his eating habits combined with his athletic built sure made a lot of sense. “That's cool! You must have been a great player.”

Akaashi’s cheeks turn pink. “My school actually went to Nationals three times in a row.”

Her jaw drops. “That’s amazing, Akaashi-kun!”

Smiling sheepishly and unable to endure her gushing praise, the junior editor smoothly changes the topic.

“Were you in any clubs in high school?” He asks curiously. “Oh, I apologise if that’s too personal.”

“Not at all!” She grins. “It’s nothing special, really—I used to be in the photography club. I actually worked for a fashion magazine before joining Marukawa.”

Akaashi nods. “That would explain why you dress so well.”

Now it’s _her_ turn to be embarrassed, sputtering hopelessly as she looks around, afraid one of their gossipier co-workers overheard. Thankfully, the room is empty, save for Hiroto-kun snoring away at his desk. Poor thing. It wouldn't be for long though—lunch was nearly over, and Aikawa hadn’t even gotten the chance to break into what she _really_ wanted to talk to him about.

But thankfully, this little encounter had turned out much better than she initially thought it would, given the disastrous way she had bumbled through the beginnings of their conversation.

“You flatter me, Akaashi-kun! I really enjoyed talking to you, but unfortunately, duty calls. We should grab lunch again soon, at a real restaurant next time. My treat.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—” Akaashi starts to protest, but Aikawa isn’t having any of it.

“Of course you can! You’re my junior after all.” She grins, giving him a thumbs-up. “Keep up the good work!”

He stands and gives her a respectful bow. “I will do my best, Aikawa-san.”

“I _know_ you will.”

☆

The months fly by, but Aikawa barely notices.

Usami-sensei had once _again,_ fled the country. Her pleas to Misaki-kun were useless, though she knew it was hardly his fault. Nobody told that cocky cock what to do. And now the printing presses were going to chew her out—as though this mess had somehow been her fault in the first place.

Kirishima Zen, Chief Editor of the shounen subdepartment, offers her a cigarette when he spots her clutching her head, miserably seated on one of the plush sofas inside the break room (affectionately dubbed ‘emotional support’ by the majority of Marukawa staff).

“You look like you need this more than I do,” he smirks. “I’ve been trying to quit, anyway. Have at it.”

She scowls at the pack of cigarettes now in her hands. It had been months since she had needed a smoke.

 _To hell with it_ , she gets to her feet and heads to the smoking-room, at the end of the hallway. Might as well indulge before Isaka-san came to devise another plan to get Usami-sensei to cooperate. Her shoes make clacking sounds on the polished floor as she drags herself to the familiar glass door, struggling to get the heavy metal frame open in five-inch heels.

Someone holds it open for her.

Aikawa raises her head to see Akaashi Keiji looking equally surprised, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Akaashi-kun!” She exclaims. “I didn’t know you smoked!”

“Ah, well,” the door swings shut with a loud _click_. “I never expected to, either.”

She smiles knowingly, sliding a cancer stick from the pack Kirishima-san had so kindly bestowed upon her. Taking the offered lighter, she ignites her cigarette with practised ease, taking in Akaashi’s rumpled clothing, his messy hair and overall sleep-deprived appearance.

“Long day?”

“Long _week_ ,” Akaashi exhales. “Nanami-sensei went out drinking and broke her wrist. We’re behind a month’s worth of chapters.”

She sighs, patting him sympathetically on the arm. Akaashi had been with them, what, a little over nine months? And already, it was starting to take a toll on his spirit.

Just as she had predicted.

“You know, Akaashi-kun,” she says, thinking to herself _better late than never_. “When I was your age, nobody bothered to take the time to talk to me, try to understand the stress I was facing. Everyone had problems of their own, you know?”

Akaashi nods, looking confused and probably not sure where she was going with this.

“The thing is,” she sucks in a puff, holding the stick as gingerly as she could between her nails, not wanting the smell to stick. “I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. People go two ways in this business. Either they quit, or worse, get _fired_ , often because of things beyond their control… or they get lucky, like me.”

It dawns on him then, she sees, and he seems to shrink, looking small and helpless despite his tall frame.

“So… you’re saying I should quit?”

“I’m saying you have a _choice_ ,” Aikawa keeps her voice firm and pushes on. “You have talent, Akaashi-kun, but that doesn’t matter when you’re faced with impossible deadlines and unrealistic expectations. By the time I realised that, I had gotten so used to this lifestyle, nothing else seemed to work for me. I couldn’t balance friends and family, I tried leaving the company for two months before crawling back—because the job market for ambitious women in their thirties in Japan is unforgiving. But you’re _young_. You still have options.”

Akaashi crosses his arms, almost defensively.

“I won’t lie. My parents and I had a fight about this yesterday. My mother wants me to pursue a Masters and an academic route overseas. They even offered to pay for my tuition.”

She blinks, feeling surprised, and just a tint of envy. “So why don’t you?”

He shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

Akaashi does that thing he does when he’s nervous (she had noticed it easily the last time they had interacted beyond a simple hi-bye in the hallways). He tugs on his fingers, fidgeting, and she’s afraid he might burn himself, accidentally grazing his lit cigarette.

“Well… there’s… someone I’m with. You know. Romantically.”

Aikawa snorts. Akaashi’s little fan club would be devastated if they knew. Not that she would tell anyone, of course. This place was hectic enough without petty gossip getting in the way of things.

“So, she doesn’t want you to move?”

“Yes… but they’re worried that I’m driving myself to an early grave if I continue here, too.”

“Definitely a valid concern.”

Akaashi nods. “They didn’t like that I picked up smoking, either. He’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, in protest.”

Aikawa hums, nodding sympathetically.

Yeah, she knew where he was coming from. She had trouble with one of her ex-boyfriends after he found out she smoked.

Which was ironic because he smoked as well. It had little to do with her health and more to do with the fact that she was a woman, so she had dumped him (rightfully). It was unusual, but not unheard of, for men to face the same problem with their significant others—

“Wait,” she stops short, eyes going wide. “Did you say _he?”_

The air seems to get several degrees colder as the conserved and polite Akaashi Keiji narrows his eyes, fixing her with a steely glare.

“Is that a problem?”

She pauses. Torn between an urge to burst out laughing and a foreboding sense of déjà vu.

Oh… if only he knew.

The number of cliché BL-tropes she was exposed to on a near-weekly basis when visiting Usami-sensei and Misaki-kun… not that she didn’t approve. But the levels of fluff were vomit-inducing. It was sickening to watch, the way they made goo-goo eyes at each other when they thought nobody was looking. Some people just didn’t have it in them to be subtle, no matter how much they tried (aka Misaki-kun).

“No,” she smiles, after composing herself. “I was just surprised. Love is love, regardless of gender.”

The fight seeps out of him almost instantly. He gives her an appreciative smile.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“No problem,” she grins. “I was almost afraid of you for a second there. You looked like you were ready to throw hands!”

He blushes. “Sorry.”

And she laughs, taking one last puff and extinguishing her cigarette on the metal bin located by the vents. Akaashi follows after her as they leave the room, both reeking of smoke but looking marginally less miserable than when they’d first entered.

“Let’s make good on that lunch appointment, Akaashi-kun.”

“Absolutely.”

☆

It had been a year since Akaashi Keiji first joined Marukawa Publishing.

Aikawa was very proud of him. The junior editor had passed his probation with flying colours.

And just like the higher-ups had planned, he was now managing Ijuuin-sensei and one of their most popular publications, ‘The☆Kan’. Misaki-kun’s favourite manga, as a matter of fact, something Usami-sensei tolerated just _barely_.

Their department had grown rather tight-knit after Akaashi had begun joining in on the occasional festivities, the newest generation of editors finally functioning as an amicable unit, supporting each other through trying times.

She and Akaashi had become good friends, occasionally having lunch together at the restaurants nearby when things got too hectic in the office.

He had slowly encouraged her to eat more balanced meals instead of nibbling on nutrition bars, and she had given him the social support he needed to join several drinking parties. It was ultimately how Akaashi had been able to get to know his colleagues, and even some other staff from the literature department, where Aikawa knew he desired to work.

She would definitely sing his praises to the board the next time assignments were being discussed. Aikawa didn’t have to be one of the only editors who balanced manga and literature publications. She was sure Akaashi would love the challenge, after getting to know him better.

Despite being young, he wasn’t one to fold easily under pressure. She wondered if it had something to do with his background in sports (she definitely hadn’t been as emotionally tough as he had when she was his age).

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by a group of young interns, led by Natsumi, a secretary for the accounting department.

“Hey, Aikawa-san? Can we ask you something?” They were giggling, looking around nervously as though to see if they were being watched. A gaggle of young girls tittering about had definitely attracted attention, especially in the manga department, where the desks were pressed closely together.

Not for the first time, Aikawa regrets eating outside her cubicle-slash-office, a small privilege she was entitled to as one of the most senior editors. She had a real office in the literature department but avoided that place at all costs if she could help it, permanently traumatised by the constant storm of people bursting in, demanding to know about Usami-sensei’s progress on manuscripts for another potentially award-winning piece.

“Um, sure. What is it?” She asks cautiously.

“You’re close to Akaashi-san, right?” Natsumi asks, twirling a clump of silky brown hair around her finger. “Would you happen to know if…”

She paused. There were more giggles. Some shushing.

Oh _boy_.

She knew where this was going. Natsumi definitely hadn’t been the first—and surely not the last—to try and pry into Akaashi’s private life.

“Do you know,” Natsumi leans forward like she's about to disclose the cure to cancer. “If Akaashi-kun is seeing anyone?”

Before Aikawa can answer her (with lies to protect Akaashi’s privacy), the wooden doors to the office fly open so hard, they collide with the wall with a resounding _bang!_

Everyone flinches at the loudness and immediately direct their gaze to the tall, muscular man dressed in sports attire standing in the hallway, entirely out of place with his sneakers and gelled-up hair (spikey), bleached white with grey streaks. A large gym-bag is slung across his broad chest, and his golden eyes scan across the room... owlishly. Yeah, that was the word. Weird. 

There were plenty of tall men Aikawa knew in Marukawa (and nearly all of them were prissy assholes who had a flair for the dramatic) (Usami-sensei being one of them), but none were as athletic and _fit_ looking as this one. Those _thighs._ And those arms! He could probably snap her in half if he tried (not that she wanted him to). His face looked a little familiar as well… almost like she had seen him someplace she couldn’t quite remember.

And she wasn’t the only one who felt this way, judging from the bug-eyed stares directed the man’s way, by a few of her colleagues. Everyone continued to observe dumbly in silence, not expecting this sudden intrusion into their dreary schedules.

She chews her lip, wondering if she should speak, but the stubborn part of her wants to figure this out on her own before asking what he wanted—or _who_ he was. It was driving her up the wall.

Where _had_ she seen him before?

“Hi!” The man chirps, his voice so much friendlier than his intimidating physique. “Has anyone seen Keiji?”

A stunned silence envelopes the room, so quiet now that you could, literally, hear a pin drop. Or in this case, a pen. Aikawa thinks someone did, back there.

She coughs, drawing his attention—and his bright smile—towards her. God, it was almost blinding. “You’re looking for Akaashi-kun?”

“Yeah!”

“Ah. Well, I saw him heading towards the smoking-room just awhile ago…”

The man’s smile dims, quickly morphing into a pout. He grumbles under his breath, and Aikawa manages to catch _'I told him to quit'_ and _'definitely sleeping on the couch tonight'_ before the man is grinning brightly again, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Thanks for the info, _nee-san!_ Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

She flushes, feeling flattered at the youthful way he had addressed her. It was so refreshing after years of being referred to as _oba-san_ by her cheeky nephews. “I’m, um, Aikawa. Aikawa Eri. Pleased to meet you…?”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” He grins, walking in and confidently strutting over to her desk, causing Natsumi and her gaggle of followers to scatter like startled pigeons. “So _you’re_ the Aikawa-san Keiji talks so much about! Thank you so much for looking out for him!”

She scrambles to her feet as he bows respectfully to her, returning the favour threefold with embarrassed bows of her own.

“No, not at all! Akaashi-kun has been wonderful to work with, we enjoy having him with us,” she says earnestly, and feels pride blooming in her chest when she spots some people nodding in agreement.

Akaashi’s initial introverted nature had worried her, but not anymore.

“Great! Thank you, everyone!” He gives them all a winning smile, bowing again and melting their hearts. He was so bright and earnest, bubbling with positivity like the sun. It was endearing. Aikawa didn’t even know him, but she already liked this kid. He seemed to have that effect on people.

“ _Bokuto-san!_ ”

An alarmed hiss comes from the doorway as Akaashi finally makes his appearance, looking _very_ sleep-deprived and like he’s about to keel over. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait for me in the lobby!”

“But _Keeeeeiji_ ,” the man whines, eliciting a laugh from her, and many others. “The lobby was boring! There was nothing to do and you were taking _forever_!”

“Oh my god,” Akaashi goes impossibly redder in the face, avoiding everyone’s eye as he stomps over, grabbing Bokuto Koutarou by the arm, and _dragging_ him out of the office. “ _Bokuto-san!_ ”

Akaashi’s chastising voice and Bokuto’s whining can still be heard even as they disappear past the doors and down the hallway, Akaashi no doubt dragging him back to the lobby where his friend could wait, away from the prying eyes of their colleagues.

“You’re so naggy, Keiji!”

“Stop whining!”

“You sound just like my mom!” Bokuto protests.

“Then stop acting like a child!” Comes Akaashi’s equally annoyed voice.

That’s all it takes for the office to burst into peals of laughter at the uncharacteristic loudness Akaashi displays alongside his mysterious—but charming—friend Bokuto Koutarou.

Aikawa pauses mid-laugh.

Could it be?

The remarks about his mystery boyfriend wanting Akaashi to quit smoking, the time Akaashi had complained about needing to go on an emergency supply run at midnight for hair dye, the extremely healthy and almost meticulously planned lunchboxes despite him obviously having no time to prepare them, his brief mentions of someone affectionately nicknamed ‘Kou’…

“I found it!” An excited yell from one of the junior editors, Kazuhi, gets their attention.

He’s clutching a magazine in his hands so tightly that wrinkles appear on the glossy paper. Yikes, she sure hopes that wasn’t a mock-up. The back displays an advertisement for athletic gear, so it’s probably a personal, already published copy, but they had a rule about treating paper with caution around here and—

Aikawa’s voice dies in her throat as he flips the sports magazine around…

… and there he was, in full coloured, glossy, cover page glory, dressed in the attire of Japan’s National Volleyball Team, leaping mid-air, muscled arm outstretched and prepared to spike.

It was a beautiful shot. She briefly wonders who had taken it. Taking the magazine from Kazuhi’s hands, she spots the words ‘Photographed by Yachi Hitoka’ in minute-font on the bottom left.

The room buzzes with disbelief and excited mummers as they realise Akaashi— _their_ Akaashi—is friends with someone famous, a celebrity almost, and his little fan club can barely contain their squeals as they scramble for their phones, no doubt to stalk his social media.

Bokuto Koutarou, international volleyball star and Japan’s sweetheart, one of the most popular and successful young athletes of the new decade. She didn't follow sports, but even _she_ knew him. He was also the face of a popular beauty brand, promoting their latest line of hair products. 

Aikawa is shocked by this revelation, of course.

Akaashi was amicable enough, but still a very private person. Without Bokuto Koutarou's appearance here today, there was the possibility that his identity would have never been disclosed. Akaashi and herself were friends, yes, but work friends who still had to remain professional. 

She knows that it isn't her responsibility to keep secrets on his behalf. 

But naturally, since she likes to think of herself as a decent human being, Aikawa does not say a word. She never will, because this is Akaashi’s personal life, and she knew the importance of discretion, especially in a close-knit office such as this.

Not that she would have felt differently about her junior either way.

Love was love.

And it was beautiful.

Smiling softly to herself, Aikawa picks up her phone and sends Akaashi a text.

>

To: Akaashi Keiji  
Time: 11:46 AM

He’s cute! You guys look good together.  
See you tomorrow for lunch? 

She gets a response, almost immediately.

>

From: Akaashi Keiji  
Time: 11:46 AM

He’s a pain in the ass.  
But thank you, and of course. 

>

From: Akaashi Keiji  
Time: 11:47 AM

I’m glad we became friends.

“This job _does_ have its moments,” she says to herself. Kazuhi overhears her and agrees immediately, obviously misunderstanding the context of her statement. The staff were still excitedly chittering about Bokuto’s sudden appearance.

She ignores them, and slides her phone back into her pocket, failing to hide her smile.

For the first time in a long time, Aikawa Eri feels content to be working in this field. She is already looking forward to tomorrow. 

But of course, just two days later—Usami-sensei flees the country with Misaki-kun. Again. 

_Fuck this shit,_ she thinks, firing a text to Akaashi, playfully suggesting they both quit their jobs.

His reply?

 _Agreed. Fuck everything._ Along with the thumbs-up emoji.

She laughs, getting up to make herself her fifth cup of 2-in-1 coffee, and thinks about how much has changed in the past year.

_Akaashi Keiji._

_Twenty-four years old, tall, with messy dark hair and spectacles framing gunmetal blue eyes. Rather handsome, even when he's exhausted and sleep-deprived from non-stop deadlines. Extremely reliable. In a relationship with Bokuto Koutarou, one of the friendliest people you'd ever have the pleasure to meet—with lawyers for parents and an uncompromising work ethic which never fails to impress._

_And Aikawa Eri's favourite junior, friend and colleague. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it! 👀 Comments and kudos are appreciated. 🥪✨


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